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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24498484">summer came like cinnamon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellsrke/pseuds/bellsrke'>bellsrke</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anniversary, Established Relationship, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Married Couple, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, Pregnancy, Protective Bellamy Blake, idk what this is, mostly fluff w a tiny bit of smut, to the past of their relationship just as a bit of useless character building</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:34:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,155</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24498484</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellsrke/pseuds/bellsrke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I can’t wait to meet you, little one. You’ve got the best man in the world as your dad.” She talks to the baby as if they can hear her, and she’s completely oblivious of Bellamy’s presence until she hears close by footsteps padding towards her.</p>
<p>He smiles as he approaches her. “Best man in the world, huh?” he sits down next to her, kisses her hairline by way of greeting like he always does.</p>
<p>-- Bellamy and Clarke on their fifth wedding anniversary (just as loved up as they were since the start)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>205</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>summer came like cinnamon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>just going to take this moment to say that i fully support the black lives matter movement, and if anyone here doesn't then kindly remove yourself from here!</p>
<p>heres a link which shows ways you can help: https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/</p>
<p>i hope everyone is staying safe in these hard times &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Clarke sits outside on the swing chair that Bellamy built for her, book in hand as the warm September breeze that reminds her of her wedding day passes over her. Clarke had told Bellamy not to do something unnecessarily over the top for their anniversary today, just something quiet at home that they could enjoy together. Her gift for him is a framed charcoal drawing of them just days before they got married; she’s in his arms and smiling into his chest as he kisses her hairline. She had drawn it herself, and signed it with a note on the back of the frame that reads,</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <em>Five years with you and I wouldn’t change a thing. Happy anniversary, my love x.</em>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After they had shared lazy, slow kisses this morning, his hands caressing the soft curve of her belly protectively, a recent habit of his since they found out she was pregnant, he had ushered her outside so he could finish the project he’s been working on for her. Needless to say, she’s starting to think that her drawing isn’t enough, given that it’s almost midday and she has been sitting outside for the better part of two hours. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As the breeze stills, her hair settles at the back of her neck, a little sticky from the heat and her pregnancy, now four months along and starting to show a small bump. For most of the summer, she’s managed to squeeze into some of her old clothes, but in the recent weeks she’s been wearing an increasing amount of loose-fitting dresses and skirts. Sometimes she only wears one of Bellamy’s old college t-shirts that reach her mid-thigh that she knows he secretly loves to see on her, maybe because it gives him the sense that she’s his; not in an objective way, more in the way that he loves to take care of her, to make her feel good, to know that she’s safe in his arms. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bellamy has always been that way, protective of his family, and Clarke knows it comes from a long childhood of having to be more of a father than a brother to his younger sister, with the intermittent absence of their mother, he knew, as much as she loved them, she couldn’t be relied on. It’s taken a long time for him to let go of the responsibility he used to feel for Octavia; something that had been drilled into him by his mother at a young age, and as Octavia grew up and became more and more distant, he almost lost himself in trying to maintain their relationship.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <em>He’s distant, closed off when she first meets him, but she can see the weight of the past he bears on his shoulders, the way that somehow, only she can tell that his brilliant smiles are empty, that the happy façade he puts on is merely a way to get through the day. She recognises it because she does the same thing, and whilst he can fool his other friends, she sees through him like glass. She keeps her walls up, just like he does, watches him from a distance, and yet somehow knows so much about him whilst knowing so little.</em>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <em>It all makes sense to Clarke when she finds out about Octavia, using the fragments of information to piece together his stunted childhood. It comes to a head one day when she overhears parts of a phone call with Octavia on his 21st birthday, and his pained and pleading tone, paired with his broken words are enough to show her how he feels, how he bases so much of his self-worth on his sister’s feelings. She stays behind to clear up once everyone has either passed out or gone home, but as soon as she tries to bring it up with him, he shuts it down, claiming that it’s none of her business and she should stay out of it.</em>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <em>As she begins to walk out the door, however, she hears the sound of glass smashing in his room and she runs towards it to find him sitting on his floor, broken glass scattered around him, his head in his hands as he sobs as quietly as he can, but his whole body still shakes. She walks towards him tentatively, crouches to sit next to him and places her hand gently on his forearm. He flinches at first; head snapping up to see who’s sat next to him, but instead of being met with a pitiful look, there is a look of understanding in Clarke’s eyes, and that’s all he needs for his limbs to relax, his rigidity easing as he rests his head on her shoulder in a moment of vulnerability.</em>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <em>They don’t speak for a while, and his head ends up in her lap somehow, Clarke’s fingers running through his soft hair to put him at ease, even his breaths. She doesn’t know how long they stay like that, but then he asks her if he can tell her about Octavia, and she’s lost for words at first because she never thought she’d be in this scenario with Bellamy Blake of all people. She hums a soft ‘yes’ in response, and listens to him as he tells her the story of his life, how he blindly sacrificed everything for Octavia, how he let her blame him for their mother’s death, even though it was no fault of his own, because she needed that outlet. How she had been closed off and bitter ever since then, how in their most recent conversation, the one Clarke overheard, she told him that everything that had gone wrong in her life was because of him. He tells her he feels weak, helpless, pathetic for still trying to be there for her, but he still does it because it’s the only thing he knows how to do when it comes to Octavia. Clarke doesn’t say much in response, not wanting to overstep her boundaries, but tells him he’s worth more than what his sister thinks of him, that he’s intelligent, and fiercely protective, and kind when he wants to be.</em>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <em>That’s when Bellamy’s head turns in her lap, a sobered look of confusion on his face as he asks why she’s being so nice to him after the attitude he’s taken with her, and she answers by telling him that she’s built the same walls that he has, and he frowns for a fraction of a second before turning his head again. A moment passes before he sits up and faces her, tells her that she’s far more than the vapid, rich white girl he thought she was when they first met. She huffs out a laugh, and that elicits a smile from him, a real smile, and it makes her grin even wider. He hauls himself off the floor, extending a hand to help her up too, and there’s a brief awkward moment where she doesn’t quite know what to do, before clearing her throat and suggesting to leave, to which he nods. Before she’s even taken two steps, though, he catches her wrist in his hand, and she turns back round to face him, a gentle look on his face as he fumbles round asking her to stay. She smiles, ducking her head and making some lame excuse about how it’s too late to go home now and she’s drunk, except it’s only half midnight and she’s completely sober and really fucking glad he wants her to stay.</em>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>He gives her a spare toothbrush and one of his t-shirts to sleep in, and it smells like him, of warm spices and Bellamy, and she crawls into the bed next to him, surprised to find how normal it feels to be with him in this moment, despite how they weren’t even friends before. They make small talk until the early hours of the morning, nothing nearly as heavy as all the things he had told her before, and despite how they’re not wrapped up in each other, Clarke’s never felt closer to someone in her life.</em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>This is how their friendship starts, and it confuses the rest of their friends but it doesn’t matter to them; what they have is rare and not the kind of friendship they’ve had with anyone else. They hang out all the time, become so close that Clarke can hardly think back to a time where she didn’t call him her best friend. He continues to tell her about his past, and as he lets his walls down she does the same. She tells him about how her father died, and then her best friend, and then she found out that her mother was partly responsible for her father’s death and that’s why she hasn’t spoken to her since she was eighteen. She’s used the money her father left her for tuition and hasn’t got much else to spare, which is why she works crappy waitressing jobs that pay badly, but it’s all she can do on top of college work. They help each other through their issues; not so much that they’re entirely dependent on each other, rather that they have such a deep trust and connection that each of their problems is one they go through together. </em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <em>It’s a few days before his 22nd birthday and he’s on the phone with Octavia again, but this time Clarke is with him, a few steps away but still agitated as he tells Octavia over the phone that she is not his responsibility anymore. He hangs up the phone after that, looks up at Clarke with a smile on his face that she returns as she jumps into his arms and he catches her so easily, like they were meant to fit together, and it’s then that she realises that it’s more than love, what she feels for him. Wrapped in his arms, she’s at home, and without thinking, she presses her lips against his in a moment of weakness but immediately pulls back. As she opens her mouth to speak, though, his eyes flit from her gaze to her lips, and he kisses her back this time, and it’s soft and sweet yet hard and fast at the same time, and the only thing on her mind is Bellamy Bellamy Bellamy. He walks towards his bedroom with her still wrapped up in his arms as they kiss and drops her down on his bed, making Clarke giggle, and he laughs in return, and God, if that isn’t the best sound she’s ever heard. He looks so gentle, propped up above her, one hand caressing her cheek, his features so soft and his pupils dilated as he looks down at her, and she leans into his touch. He dips his head to kiss her again, a little softer than before. When he pulls back up, his hair falls in front of his face, and Clarke pushes it back and smiles fondly, words itching at the back of her throat to be let out, but before she can open her mouth, he says it. Three simple words, and it’s no big revelation but it still manages to set her bones on fire as she smiles so big it reaches her eyes, and the words tumble out of her mouth easily after that too. Every time they kiss after that feels right too, and it feels like Clarke’s life has finally fallen into place. Bellamy keeps her centred.</em>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>It only takes him a little over a year after that to ask her to marry him, just after Clarke turns 23, and her friends don’t even try telling her that she’s too young to get married, because they see how happy she is with Bellamy, how he makes her the best version of herself and how she does that for him too. They’re each other’s family, and that’s why Bellamy is so protective of her; not because he sees her as vulnerable, but because it’s in his nature to care for those he loves. </em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Clarke smiles as she recalls all the precious moments they’ve spent together, relaxing as she swings on the seat and feels the crips edges of the cut grass on the soles of her feet. She cradles her belly with one hand, feeling it through the flimsy fabric of her dress. “I can’t wait to meet you, little one. You’ve got the best man in the world as your dad.” She talks to the baby as if they can hear her, and she’s completely oblivious of Bellamy’s presence until she hears close by footsteps padding towards her.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He smiles as he approaches her. “Best man in the world, huh?” he sits down next to her, kisses her hairline by way of greeting like he usually does.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Clarke laughs as she looks up at him, and he’s still shirtless from working in the house which somehow manages to knock her back slightly, despite how she sees him like this everyday. “Don’t let it inflate that big ego of yours,” she jokes, but she was serious when she spoke to the baby before. She’s never felt more confidant that Bellamy will love this child with every bone in his body. She sees him smile wider at the remark, and can’t help but lean forward and kiss him briefly (so what if her hormones are acting up recently?).</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He meets her eyes again and takes her hand, gently pulling her up from the seat with him, and now they stand face to face, and she runs her hand through his untamed curls making him scrunch his nose up. “Where are we going?” she asks, as he starts to pull her inside the house.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ll see.” The lightness in his tone is enough for her to carry on traipsing through their house, hands still clasped together as he reaches one of the two spare rooms upstairs. He’s been keeping quiet about working in here, and now Clarke knows why as she sees the walls painted a fresh light blue, and in the middle of the otherwise bare room is a beautiful wooden rocking chair.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She lets go of his hand as she steps towards it, running her fingertips along the smooth, delicately carved wood. “Bellamy…” she mutters under her breath as she feels him come up behind her, wrap his arms around her waist and kiss the dip between her neck and shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Happy anniversary Princess,” she hears him say, and she feels the vibration of his low voice against her skin, smiling at the old nickname he used to tease her with. She turns in his arms to see her looking down at him, his eyes full of life. “What do you think?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s beautiful. Thank you.” She leans up to kiss him gently before setting her head on his chest, her bump pressed between them a reminder of the life they’ve made together. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She feels him smile, his lips on her forehead. “Glad you think so.” The steady, familiar feeling of his voice sends a wave of affection up Clarke’s spine, and she remembers she’s yet to give him her own gift. She takes her hand in his again, leading them out of the spare room towards their own, and sits Bellamy down on their bed as she rummages in her wardrobe, pulling out the drawing wrapped in plain, sweet yellow wrapping paper.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She sits down next to him, hands him the gift and he frowns as he unwraps it, but she watches his expression turn when he sees the drawing, a soft look etched on his face. He turns around to face her. “You drew this?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She smiles and nods her head, and he wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her closer into his side, and she feels the heat of his bare skin burn even through the fabric of her sundress while she leans her head on his shoulder. She watches as he traces the dark lines over the glass of the frame. “My talented girl,” he says with so much fondness that something blooms in her chest, hearing his words of praise for her.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Bellamy is beside himself with happiness when she tells him she’s pregnant, smiling through the disbelief and then the tears of joy that ensue as he gently takes her face in his hands and kisses her like she’s the most precious thing in the world; and to him, she is. His hands drift down to her hips, his thumbs stroking the edges of her stomach, and she knows he’s thinking about her carrying their baby because he smiles so big as he kisses her that they have to stop, because it’s become a mess of clashing teeth. They don’t care, though, and he holds her in contentment as she breathes in the familiar scent of him, and it anchors her. </em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>When they go to the six-week scan, she looks over to see him smiling at the ultrasound screen as the doctor points out the heartbeat, and he looks at her then, kisses her forehead as she smiles back at him and squeezes his hand, intertwined with hers. He loves to put his hands on her stomach any time he can, and she loves it too; the way his fingers spread so wide, the way he can hold so much of her. He’s always made her feel small, even though he’s an average height. It’s in his strength, the way he can pick her up so easily, smother her when he surrounds her. The defined contours are still there even as he nears thirty, because he works extra jobs on construction sites to earn more money, and when he comes back he has a thin layer of sweat and the smell of chopped wood surrounds him that Clarke can’t get enough of.</em> </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They stay sat like that for a while, talking about everything and nothing. After a while, they move outside to the swing chair, and its wide enough that she can sit in the dip of his legs and lean back against his chest as he wraps his arms around her middle, and she places her hands over his, looks to the left to see the light catch on their wedding rings. They fall asleep like this for some time, Clarke wrapped up protectively in Bellamy’s arms, and the steady movement of his chest as he breathes is gentle on her back. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She turns onto her side and he stirs as she wakes, his hands still slung loosely around her hips as she puts her hand on his chest to lean up and look at him. He gives her a sleepy smile, pushes the hair back off her face delicately and kisses the tip of her nose before moving them both up and off the seat. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Everything is slow paced for the rest of the day; just the two of them, cooking, laughing, reading. Bellamy is constantly distracted by the fact that Clarke isn’t wearing a bra because her boobs are even bigger than normal, and its so easy for his hands to dip past the low neckline of her dress just to feel the weight of them in his hands, and when his thumbs brush over them as he leaves open-mouthed kisses along her clavicle, she moans a little bit because they’re so fucking <em>sensitive</em> right now. She keeps telling him to stop distracting her with his hands and his mouth whilst she’s busy doing things, but she relents when he comes up behind her as she’s washing up, moving her hair to one side of her neck whilst he kisses up the other side, his hands on her hips like always, and she opens her neck to him for a moment before turning in his arms and kissing him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s all just as slow as the previous moments, as she lets his tongue trace the seam of her lower lip while she threads her fingers through his hair, soft as ever. She manages to pull apart enough to get out a barely coherent, “upstairs,” but he hears nonetheless, slides his hands down to the back of her thighs and picks her up gently which makes her gasp a little. He walks them upstairs with ease, letting her kiss down his neck as he navigates them, and places her on their bed before crawling up the bed to hover above her, pulling the neckline of her dress down so that her breasts are exposed. He kisses them softly, lets his tongue swipe across her nipples but keeps his movements light. He lets her sit up as she pulls the dress over her head and he rids himself of his pants and boxers, and she lets him pull her underwear down himself before he pushes into her, slow, almost lazy and it’s delicious, the way he always fills her up. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He whispers sweet nothings into her ear as he grounds his hips into hers, his pace constant and she matches it, hooking her legs just above his hips in an effort to bring him closer. They move in tandem, a thin layer of sweat forming on their skin in the warmth of the early September dusk, their foreheads touching as they breathe heavily. Ever selfless, Bellamy never lets himself come before she does, and he brings his hand round to where they’re joined to rub her clit and that feeling building in Clarke’s lower core finds its release. She moans when she feels herself clench down on him, and again when he finds his own release and he’s spilling inside of her, making incoherent low noises from the back of his throat.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They stay like that for a moment before he slides out of her, and she feels a little wetness slip out of her as he moves, so he gathers a couple of tissues to clean between her legs and drops a kiss there when he’s done, then one on her stomach and it makes Clarke smile fondly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They take a shower together after to cool down, and he washes her hair for her, the feeling of his fingers in her hair relaxes her as the cool water runs down their bodies. “Feels good,” she hums as he washes the rest of her body for her, his big, tan hands lathering sweet smelling soap all over her. “I love the way you take care of me.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And I love taking care of you.” His tone is liquid and warm, and he finishes rinsing the rest of Clarke’s body before turning the shower head off, grabbing a towel to wrap her in before tying one round his waist for himself. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Clarke towel dries her hair before getting into bed naked, and he pulls on a pair of boxers before slipping in beside her, but its still so warm so they pull the thin sheet halfway down the beds that it bunches around Clarke’s hips. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bellamy is on his side, propped up on his elbow and looking down at her fondly. “Happy anniversary. I love you.” He leans down to kiss her again, his hand instinctively going to rest on top of her belly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Clarke smiles as he pulls away. “I love you too.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And we both love you,” he says, looking at her bump affectionately, rubbing his thumb across it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You wanna read to it again?” Clarke knows the answer, but it doesn’t stop his face from lighting up at the request.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah?” His voice is layered with so much sweetness and compassion that it tugs on her heart strings a little.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Clarke nods in response, and she lets him rest his head on her chest, pillowed on her breasts despite how sensitive they are at the moment. It’s worth it when she listens to Bellamy’s deep voice talk to her stomach, telling some story about ancient Greek Gods that she’s only half listening to, because she’s more focused on the excited tone in his voice, as if the baby’s really there, and it almost makes her want to cry, how much she loves him and how much he loves their unborn child.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She doesn’t notice he’s done until he kisses her stomach again and lifts his head, and she lets him pull her into his side so that her back is flush with his chest and his hand has found her stomach again, out of habit. She knows he’s tired from finishing the rocking chair earlier, but still doesn’t hesitate to tease him for it. “Bed time already, old man?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He grumbles in response, and she feels his breath on her neck as he does so. “<em>Your</em> old man,” he responds, and yes, she supposes that’s true.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She links her fingers with his on the soft curve of his stomach, pulls the sheet over them as she nestles her head into her pillow and smiles. “My old man indeed.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>comments and kudos make my day and also inspire me to write more, just saying</p></blockquote></div></div>
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